3
Antonio
One hour after the kidnapping…
The child is behind me, protected until I have the answers that I need, the ones that will satisfy the innate curiosity building within me.
“What do you intend to do with the boy?” I ask, delivering him to Roberto.
I shouldn’t care. It shouldn’t matter, but it does.
He’s a child and not just any child, Aleksandra’s son. It’s not just another job. I know the woman and the family the boy belongs to, and taking him means we’re asking for war. One that we can’t win against the Russians.
“You don’t ask questions,” Roberto says. He glances me over. “You’re nothing more than an errand boy, Antonio. Know your place.”
My brow tightens. After what I’ve seen today, I question everything I know about Roberto. “You always told me that my mother left me on your doorstep. That wasn’t true, was it?”
Why hasn’t the truth dawned on me sooner?
Is that why Roberto kept me from the knowledge of him running The Cradle and being the man behind the smuggling of children and newborn babies?
“You’re my son,” Roberto says.
I never questioned the adoption. Roberto Moretti was a father to me growing up, teaching me the ways of the bratva.
He still doesn’t answer my question.
“Did you abduct me from my mother, like we did the boy?” I ask. I need to know if my family abandoned me like I’d been told or if I was stolen.
There’d always been rumors that I was Russian, how easy it is for me to kill and exact revenge. The fact that I’m ruthless and cunning isn’t unnoticed by the mafia. I’ve never quite fit in with the Italians, but I surmised it was because I was adopted.
They are trained to be cold and cruel by the mafia boss himself.
I was taught by the best to be the worst.
Is it all a lie?
“I brought you into my home, Antonio, and raised you as my son. And this is the thanks that I get? Questioning where you came from?” He stands and steps around his desk, coming to face me. “The bratva are ruthless savages. They threaten our shipments and our families. They’re the monsters. Not us.”
He’s talking in circles, avoiding the question. I stare him down, unwilling to so much as blink. “Did you kidnap me?” I bite, needing to know the truth.
“You weren’t dropped off at the doorstep,” Roberto says with a laugh. “Think about it. The place is guarded and locked up. How would anyone get past the fence to deliver an infant to the front door? And why would they?”
My hands ball into fists at my sides. I want to slug the bastard, but he’s my boss and will throw my ungrateful ass in the dungeon. Or worse, murder me.
“Come here, child,” he says to the boy.
The blond-haired little one doesn’t step any closer. He’s tucked behind my legs and reaches for my hand. My fist relaxes as he grips my hand and clutches it like a lifeline, unwilling to let go.
“This will start a war,” I warn Roberto. Does he not worry about the consequences of stealing a child from the Barinov family? He could have suggested that we capture any child, but to go after the bratva’s family is ludicrous.
His lips turn upwards just slightly, his eyes crinkling with glee. “Good,” Roberto says. “Let them come. We’ll burn the bratva. Every last one of them.”
I glance at the young boy, practically attached to my hip. “Go outside; stand by the door,” I say.
He doesn’t question my order. He drops my hand and hurries out of the office. I shut the door behind him. What I intend to do, I don’t want any witnesses.
“Don’t you see it?” Roberto asks. A smug grin stretches across his face. “The boy is yours. Aleksandra had your son. He belongs with you.”